


A Bodyguard of Lies

by karrenia_rune



Category: Gargoyles
Genre: Gen, Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Bluestone has always had an on-going fascination with conspiracy theories and urban fantasies, put it has had to find a practical balance between<br/>not over-indulging them because it would interfere with his work as a police detective. One day his conspiracy theories go too far and it finally gets both him, his partner and the Manhattan Clan tangled up in the dangerous world of the Illuminati.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bodyguard of Lies

Disclaimer: Gargoyles: the Animated Series is the creation of Greg Wiesman and belongs to Disney and Buena Vista Television.  
Part 1 of 10 of the Rubric Series.

"A Bodyguard of Lies" by karrenia

 

The unmarked manila envelope lay on top of his coffee table in his small eighth floor apartment only partially buried underneath the glossy covers of magazines that he subscribed to but only read about a quarter of them.

Only a few evenings ago he had received a phone cal; nothing out of the ordinary about that, but the party on the other end of the line was someone that Detective Matt Bluestone had not expected to hear from ever again. 

Begging off his nightly patrol with his partner, Elisa Maza, Matt had laying aside his skepticism and most of his reluctance to accept what he had been told in the midst of that late night phone conversation, had shown up at the agreed upon rendezvous point.

Even now, with that envelope’s contents still unread and the hard evidence lying flat and tinny against the silver and red tie of his suit, a part of him still was unwilling to accept the reality. He was IN.

This was not just a status symbol, although to certain members which would remain nameless for now, it probably was. To Matt it was a quiet accomplishment. Oh, sure to most, the existence of this particular club was a   
matter of centuries of speculation and even more, if one wished to go there. The Illuminati existed, of that there was no doubt, all of his research and dogged determination that had made him such a good cop and now a good police detective had left him in little doubt about that.

As he had told his partner Elisa Maza only three nights ago, there were conspiracy theories and then there were conspiracies, and there was more than a distinct difference between the two. Like things that went bump in the night. Given his audience of one, she might be more inclined to go along with that line of reasoning, after all, she had her own secrets to keep.

How could he hold onto to any anger at her for keeping the secrets of the existence of real life clan of gargoyles living in Manhattan to herself for so long?

Matt thought back to how that had come about, and felt a twinge of guilt at his nerve endings. He had done many things in his life that he regretted, and one of them was sitting up the big Gargoyle, Goliath’ for the fall at the bequest of his best friend from his days in the FBI, Mace Malone.

Goliath had not been happy at the revelation that he had been set up, but seeing the big guy in action, now that was something else, and if he lived to be a hundred years old Matt would never forget that moment onwards: fighting their way out of the deadly trap that had been set up for the gargoyle, and their narrow escape from said trap. Matt believed; of that there was no question.  
**  
Elisa came out of the police precinct taking the steps two at a time, her black hair blown around her face in the brisk evening breeze. He had already brought the red and white car around from where they had parked and got out to open the door for her, and then got in on the passenger side.

“Any word?” he asked as she got in, nodded and looking both ways in the busy streets, pulled out into the midst of traffic.

“Nothing. No one is taking any bets, but there’s expecting Xanatos to be out of jail in anything from three to six weeks.” She sighed. “I know he’s rich, so rich that he could probably half of Manhattan and the Jersey shore if he put his mind to it.”

“How do we that he doesn’t?” Matt asked with a wry twist to his mouth, mostly to keep her talking because he respected her commentary and crazier theories, maybe that was made them just a good team.

“Still, it’s not fair that if he does the crime he should do the time, just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, but, that’s the problem with our justice department, today, rich bastards got the money and the influence to pull the strings from all sides.”

She laughed and turned her head to give him an appraising look. “You’re in a mood. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“You always could see right through me,” Matt replied with a sigh as he reached up and combed his fingers through his wavy red hair. “Maybe its something, maybe it’s nothing, except about a week ago I received a strange envelope in the mail.

“Maybe it’s fan mail, or it could be a death threat. Matt, you could be making a whole lot out of nothing. In this line of work, is it really that strange?” she asked.

“Not really,” he shrugged. Except for the fact that everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

“Matt, I’m willing to entertain just about any of your wilder theories from the existence of life on other planets to Big Brother is watching us,” Elisa smiled to take the sting out of her tone.

“If you don’t mind my saying so,” Matt continued, “You look tired.”

“It’s these damn double shifts,” Elisa sighed, but you were saying?“ she prompted.

“I believe I told you about the Illuminati, right?”

“Yes, let me think a bit, wasn’t that like a secret society that has been pulling the strings behind almost every ruler, politician from the time of the Crusades?

“Probably even longer than that, but the scholarship from before that time is,” Matt shrugged and through up his hands in a dramatic gesture, “is well, sketchy at best. But it depends on which source you consult.”

“Of course,” she replied.“

“They control everything, from politics to high-finance.” I am, for crying out loud, their symbol is even right on the back of the damn dollar bill.”

“Matt,” Elisa said with a cautious tone in her voice.”

“Okay, Okay, I know I am getting more than a little ahead of myself,. But what I’m trying to get at, is that I believe that the Illuminati is up to something; Something big.”

“Let me get this straight, a secret society that’s been around for centuries, is only now up to something big?” Elisa asked, mock-raising one black eyebrow up a fraction of an inch.

Matt sighed and nodded. “I know how it sounds. But if a secret society can’t remain secret for very long if everyone knew about it?”

“And this envelope you got, you believe it’s got something to do with this conspiracy theory?” Elisa continued to drive weaving in out of traffic as they talked, only partially concentrating on the conversation. She had heard 

Matt’s wilder theories of and on since they had become partners and as much as she liked and admired Detective Bluestone, sometimes they did become more than a little trying and murky at times.

Realizing that she had best pay attention to her driving and the road, Elisa suddenly said. “Don’t let me fall asleep at the wheel.” She yanked on the wheel and slid into the neighboring lane to avoid hitting a semi that had skidded on a patch of ice on the street. “Are you okay?” Matt asked worried about Elisa’s mental state, wondering if he should suggest that they pull over and switch places. “Maybe you should let me drive,” he added.

“Good idea.” She agreed and pulled out of traffic and onto a side street, and up to the curb before bringing the car to a halt. She opened the door and got out, and then walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle.

Interlude

Elsewhere, from the glass enclosed room of that served both as a processing facility and place where the inmates could converse with those on the outside, David Xanatos waited. He had been waiting a long time, but then he was a patient man; and at last his patience was rewarded.

A man wearing a long nondescript trench coat arrived and waiting for a nod, picked up the receiver on his side of the glass window.

“Did you deliver the envelope as I requested?”

“Yeah.” the other replied.

“I don’t like your attitude. It is entirely too, well, nonchalant for the matters underway.”

“Bully for ye, lad,” the man in the trench coat replied. “I’ve been at this far longer than you have, and I believe that earns me a little leeway in proper deportment, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, I would not.” Without his consciously realizing it a hint of a threatening tone had crept into his voice. He did not analyze it in any special detail but if he had pressed to, Xanatos would have had to call it jealousy.

The man on the other end of the line was higher up in the hierarchy of their club than he was, and despite all of his native charm, skill, wealth, money, power and influence, his own ranking was still lower than that of the poor slob he had enlisted to perform the tasks under discussion.

That would change, and quickly once the district attorney judge overseeing his case ruled to commute his sentence and he was released from jail. In the meantime he had to rely on others. It rankled, but one simply had to make the best of a bad situation.

“Do you believe that he will take the bait?”

“He will. I know him, you see. I know how he thinks and I know he will.”

“Excellent, “ Xanatos replied, his tone now more mollified and even. “Proceed as planned.”

“You got it boss,” the man in the trench coat replied. “You’re the one footing the expenses.”

“Please, don’t remind me.” and with that Xanatos ended the conversation and plunked the phone back into its cradle mounted to the wall and nodding to the guard on duty that he was ready to return to his cell.

Flashback

In the aftermath of the haze and smoke of ring of fire that was Phoenix Gate’s fading magic, one David Xanatos of Bar Harbor, Maine and his new bride, Fox, emerged onto the dark stretch of highway that led surrounded on all sides by a thick swatch of forest. Above, the moon was at a half sickle, clouds scudding along like a herd of fat grayish white sheep.

The timing could not have been more perfect for in the distance he could distinctly hear the staccato beat of hoof beats quickly approaching. He stole a quick glance at Fox and the two others of their party that had been transported along with them when the magic of the Gate activated: Demona and Goliath.

The remaining member of the wedding party, his father, was still staring around in bemused wonder at their surroundings. His father’s confusion and skepticism would have to wait; there was too much at stake to risk blowing it now.

Finally what he had been waiting arrived. A courier, and if his dress and mount were a good indication, not just any old courier, but a Norman on one of those heavy grey animals that in a matter of a few decades knights in the Middle Ages would use to joust with heavily padded lances; but that was still in the future, what mattered was the present moment.

The courier traveled along at a good clip, heavily hooded against the brisk evening breeze and what was even more important to Xanatos’ way of thinking, was the patchwork quartered embroidered royal seal on the left sleeve of his tunic.

Just then the small group all heard a scuffle and the sound of tearing branches and booted feet trampling through the thick ground cover of the forest broke the stillness of the night.

The man sawed on the reins and leaned almost too far to one side, nearly toppling from his saddle as a flurry of arrows whizzed through the air and nearly took him point blank in the chest. Nodding to Fox, that was their cue, and they went into action,

Xanatos hit several of the brigands, (in the back of his mind he thought, “Might as well get into character as well as into the lingo of the time period. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right?’) Chopping at them with the flat of his hand, and upon contact their hands snapped back. Weaving and dodging he avoided several return blows and then out of the corner of his eye, he saw another smaller, meaner looking brigand attempting to sneak up on him with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

He altered his stance, balancing on one leg and quick as a striking snake kicked out at the brigand and quickly knocked him out of the contest.

After it was all over, Fox smiled, showing all of her sharp teeth and the gleam in her eyes was not merely a reflection of the glimmer of moonlight on the ground. “”Thank you, David,” she paused and then added. “I am having a simply marvelous time.”

The Norman courier got up, dizzily shaking his head as he recovered his wind and his voice to speak. “I thank Ye, kind strangers, though verily thou art strangers to these parts. I have little to offer in return for saving my life, except my thanks and a gold sovereign coin.”

The man held out a thick golden coin and Xanatos with a practiced courtly bow accepted the coin and turned it over and over in his palm before he pocketed and reaching out one hand helped the Norman courier to his feet.

The man looked around askance at the group but was too polite to inquire further into their business. “Come Castle Wyvern lies yonder, and there you will find both food, drink and a warm fire.”

“Sounds good to me,” Xanatos replied.

“David, was all of this,” he father gestured around at their surroundings and then turned back once more to regard his son with mingled air and wonder. “Really necessary?”

“There are reasons for everything I do, Pop,” the younger man replied. “You’ll see, after this is all over, that I really am a self-made man.”

Present Day

The party was in full swing, one of those high-society wheeling and dealing affairs which required both black-ties, and tight security measures. With his Fox on his arm, David Xanatos made an entrance, chatting up both potential business opportunities and potential rivals; it never hurt to be careful, after all. The full twenty piece band had struck up a medley of songs from the era of the big-bands and making his excuses to the couple of bankers, he led Fox onto the dancer floor, joined slowly by other couples.

Feeling a presence at his side, he looked up to see a short, stocky man wearing a three piece tan suit and a pin on his own tie that matched the one on his own. The significance of that meeting was not lost on either of the men, and making his excuses to Fox, he stepped away to join the shorter man in alcove off of the main ballroom floor. “21,” the shorter man announced. “86”, Xanatos replied.

“If you don’t mind my saying so,” the man identified only by the number twenty one, added’, Don’t you think it might be a little dangerous to wear that symbol so openly?”

“I rather enjoy flirting with danger from time to time, if you must know.”

“Oh, trust me, we do know, which one of the main reasons that the council held out so long about whether or not to sanction your membership, Mr. Xanatos.”

“I can well imagine.”

“This meeting was not of my choosing, but the message must be conveyed. It is time. Be ready, for whatever may come next.”

“Message received and acknowledged,” Xanatos nodded and reached out to shake the other man’s hand.

“Enjoy the rest of evening.” the other added and left as quickly as he had arrived.

Conclusion

“Figures it would have something to do with the Gargoyles,” Matt sighed as he sat back in his chair and let the glossy 8 x 10 photographs slip out of his grasp and fall to the floor. He closed his eyes and reached up to rub his temples with his hands. “Just how am I going t break this to Elisa, but I can’t in good conscience hide this from her.

“Maybe that first brush was a test, maybe Mace really did pull the proverbial wool over my eyes, but this, this is the last straw.”

Matt muttered under his breath and thrust his body forward in one swift movement and picked up the scattered photographs.  
In the back of his mind he could not help thinking as much of a personal insult Mace’s supposed betrayal of his friendship and trust was, the Manhattan clan of gargoyles did not deserve any of what was about to befall them. 

They had done more to protect the citizens of this city than anyone knew or cared to give them credit for, and now the Illuminati, a bunch of power-hungry, crazy bastards, and even young upstarts if his suspicions about 

David Xanatos were correct, were gunning for them.  
It really was not fair, and then and there, with his guts twisting up inside of him and his blood pressure most likely spiking upwards, Matt Bluestone made a decision: no matter what else happened in the coming days or weeks, or however long it took, he had chosen which side he was on,; firmly in the camp of Elisa Maza and Manhattan Gargoyles. It may not have been the wisest course he could have chosen, but he was committed to it now, and as he resumed his seat in his chair, Matt realized with some surprise that he could live with it.


	2. The Nature of Things

Matt Bluestone was well aware that his conspiracy theories usually were regarded by his partner and fellow detective Elisa Maza as just that; theories. Matt had been around long enough to know that if one followed the trail of coincidences long enough he bound to arrive at a conclusion.

"So, your suspicions about Xanatos and his connections to the Illuminati were correct. What are you going to do about it?"

He knew that Elisa Maza respected his skills as both a police detective and she valued him as a close friend, however, she also thought that he was prone to jumping to unwarranted conclusions.

That did not take away from the fact that by having the evidence in his possession meant that now he must see where it led him.

The only problem was whether or not he should involve Elisa and by extension her friends, the Gargoyles?

He set down the envelope and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the surface of his desk.  
A moment later he began to rub his temples with his fingers to stave off an oncoming headache.

Matt felt much akin to a hamster spinning around and around on its wheel, getting nowhere fast.

He was reasonably certain that a solution to his dilemma would present itself very soon; he just wished that it would happen sooner rather than later.

The letter that the object of his current obsession had sent with its pithy summation of the Illuminati no doubt was meant as a rebuke rather than containing any information that would further his investigation. And Matt also knew that from Xanatos' perspective his inquiries were bound to reach the point where it became more than just irritating, and the man was certainly not the type to let those who irritated or otherwise stepped on his business off with just a warning.

Xanatos could very well make live very difficult for him personally, he might even go so far as to discredit him with the New York Police force, or threaten his partner. That was the most worrisome thing about people who were paranoid; if you took it too far inevitably that nebulous "they' really would be out to get you.

The buzzer to his apartment sounded, startling enough to break him out of his meandering thoughts, which he thought as he stood up and went over to the intercom to hit the reply button, It's just as well because I'm not getting anywhere at the moment.'

Aloud he said. "Yes, who is it?" "Matt, it's Elisa. We need to talk."

"Come on up," he replied. **

He buzzed her in and he asked if she was alright or if she needed anything to drink. She asked for a glass of winter and waited on his sofa while he went into his kitchen to fill a glass for the tap on his sink and then brought it back out to her.

She accepted the glass and then took a few sips before she set it aside on the top of his coffee table.

Figuring, more than likely that she would be the one to broach whatever she had on her mind first, he would wait until she felt like talking about it.

Finger-combing through the strands of her long black hair Elisa at last gave him a long searching glance and then she sighed.

"Matt, you know that I had this big speech planned out, but somehow in the course of deciding to come here in person rather than just calling you, it got lost in the shuffle."

"Don't think I don't appreciate the effort," he replied, realizing even as the words were out of his mouth that it might seem that was being just a bit on the defensive side.

"Look, Matt, we've been partners for a long time now, and I know when I need to give your space, to work on whatever sideline projects that you might want to delve into," Elisa said. "I know, and I appreciate that." "The thing of it is, this current, uhm, project of yours has the Chief worried about you." "The Chief?"

"Yeah, she isn't the type to let it show, at least on the surface, but deep down she is concerned."

"You can tell her that her concern is misplaced, or maybe groundless is a better word," Matt replied "My investigation isn't taking away from my duties as an officer."

"That's just the thing, from the way I see it, if you want to go on a personal one-man crusade against the evil empire of David Xanatos and his alleged affiliation with a secret society, fine and dandy." Elisa grinned. "I don't like the bastard any more than you do."

She held up one hand to forestall the reply that was just forming on his lips. "However, a little moderation now and then might help and prevent you from burning out entirely; Capice?" "Hey, thanks for that." Matt sighed. "I haven't exactly been shall we say, circumspect in my crusade, have I?"

Elisa responded to that with a grin of her own: "Hey, I hear the world is full of people who spout conspiracy theories and the like, some of them happen to be right, but that does not change the fact that we have a job to do."

"You know, I'm actually glad that you came because I've been fretting up here, racking my brains out for how to tell you that I'd like your help with my investigation. And by that I also meant your clan friends as well.

"Oh, that is...I don't know if I am entirely sanguine with that, but where Xanatos is involved the Gargoyles usually follow, or something like that. I know that he hasn't troubled them in some time, but he's still out there."

"And you don't trust him any further than you can throw him, right?" Matt stated emphatically.

"That's a given.

"And Elisa, for what it's worth, I feel in my gut that the connection between Xanatos Corp, and the Illuminati is going to play a big part in what'ss to come. I just can't explain why I feel that way."

"Yes," she replied. "Honestly, I don't see if it makes a difference if Xanatos and his business, whther legit or not makes a difference to them." She sighed and then reached for her water glass and took another healthy swallow before adding. "They are way out of their time, out of the loop. I just want to see them given a fair shake." "They deserve that much," Matt agreed.

"Yes, they do," Elisa replied.

"I think this deserves a toast, but at the moment I'm all out of wine."

"You could get out the fancy long-stemmed glasses. Besides, I'm on the late shift, no drinking while on the job."

"Okay, okay, you've got me there." Matt smiled and realized that without his even noticing it the headache that had begun to throb behind his eyeballs had vanished. Things were beginning to look up, and it might have everything to do with having his long-term partner in his corner.


	3. Even Love is Speculation

David Xanatos had been coveting ownership of the tiny gold square engraved with the sigil of a single eye overlapping a triangle for a very long time.

It was less than the pride of ownership than it was a measure of his achievement in securing it. Those who had presented him with that pin were members of a secret society that had been around for a very long time.

The fact that that very same symbol could be found on the backs of printed US. Currency did not really matter to him. He would gladly leave the conspiracy theories and hysteria-inducing diatribes to those who were so found of making their speculations known to the general public.

David Xantatos was the type to play it close to the vest; granted there was much about his various business interests that was a matter of public knowledge; however, much more of it was not.

When he'd gone so far as to prove to his father, a man who had never approved of much of what his son did with his life, that he had made his way by his own hard-work and determination; those hidden connections and resources had come in handy in ways that were even now still playing out.

"Odd, isn't it?" he remarked to his quiet and unassuming assistant, who to the casual observer was the very the epitome of respectful and efficient assistant; Owen Burnett," but in realitywas so much more, only nodded as he went about his daily task. "

Odd, how the past more often that we might like to think, never really stays in the past and has a way of shoving its way into the present, to become the future."

"I could have told you that, Sir, before you conceived the dangerous but quite daring plan to travel into the past with the Phoenix Gate, such magic, is well, unpredictable."

"It worked, did it not?"

"Yes, but then, you have always been the type that follows the logic of the ends justify the means," Owen remarked.

"Speaking of which, but now Detective Bluestone should have received the letter and had time to absorb the significance of its contents."

"More than likely he'll take the implied information, but not the hint," the other replied.

"It was a warning?" Owen asked shaking his head.

"His investigations into your business dealings are hardly like to cause much of a ripple in the grand scheme of things. Judging by my analysis of your records, should your connection with the Illuminati become a matter of public knowledge, hardly a scandal that would make the headlines of New York Times." "

In so many words," replied Xanatos. "Public officials and white collar crime grab more of the public's attention than would say fringe group than the former."

"Our new friends have been around for a very long time, in one form or another, and if anyone has lived the following axiom: "

"What axiom?"

Owen nodded. "That the worth of any secret is directly proportional to the number of people from which it must be kept."

Xanatos nodded.

"You would argue that it would best to continue that trend. Again, I am certain that you're correct that Bluestone is hardly to make that much of a ripple, but I do find it sort of personally irritating."

"More so than Detective Maza and the Gargoyles?" Owen asked as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow at a distinct upward slant.

"That falls into an entirely different category. I have plans for them, regardless of the new allies."

"Indeed, Sir." Owen replied. "I feel compelled to add that it goes without saying that should your plans ran counter to the Illuminati, they will not be happy."

David Xanatos leaned back in his leather swivel chair and folded his arms across his chest. He had a look on his face that seemed to express both smugness and determination all at the same time. "Then that is just too damn bad, for them."

"Very good, Sir." Owen replied. The part of his nature that lay just below the surface felt a tingling along his nerve-endings and signaled that the ever-practical nature of Owen might have qualms about going against an entity as powerful as the Illuminati; the quixotic part that was Puck wanted to take it by the horns and run with it. He smiled. "Then there is nothing for it but to see where this path will lead."


	4. Every Time I Try to Get Out

Every Time I Try to Get Out (They Pull Me Back In) (Rubric Series part 4) #79

Finding the location of the rumored facility was the easy part. He had been half afraid that the intelligence given to him by an anonymous tipster, who would identify himself or herself, as Deep Throat, would turn out to what they called in the spy business as a dud.

The voice on the phone had been low and gravelly, coming at a register just an octave above a whisper, and given the varieties and levels of sophisticated technology capable of disguising one voices, much of which could be obtained legitimate, it made it even more difficult to be certain. All the same, he had gone out to the address and reconnoiters before he would even consider going forward with what he had as another matter entirely to ask that Goliath risk his as well.

For as much time as he had spent with Goliath and his clan and Elisa's obvious rapport that was shared by them in return, Matt had never sensed he had something of the same type of relationship with them. It was there, it just was not the same. When he had approached Goliath, and explained that it was his only obvious lead to Xanatos connection to the Illuminati, the big guy had chosen to go along.

They reached the location on a night that clouded over but beneath the cloud cover was otherwise brilliant with a spread of stars. The exterior of the building complex was a plain warehouse and supply depot with delivery vans parked in the rear of the building.

Getting in side was easy, much easier than either of them had expected. The ground floor was lined with floor to ceiling crates and a cursory inspection revealed that they contained nothing more inouncous than home renovation supplies, paint, stucco, dry wall and the like.

Matt shook his head and offered Goliath a wordless shrug in reply to the questioning look the other directed toward him.

They crossed to a freight elevator that was located just to the left of an office, and even as they did so a digital relay snapped on and a voice of a man that neither of them could identify came on channeled through an overhead speaker. "Welcome," he said. "We've been expecting you."

Goliath uttered a low, fierce growl and stood up on his haunches shaking a massive fist at the image on the screen. "Who are you? What do you want with us?"

For the moment there was no immediate reply as if the man on the screen was rather taken aback or something had occurred that had not played into his carefully rehearsed speech before he said: "I had thought you wold much ah, smaller. Did you find this place of your own accord? But no matter, the game and the rules remain the same."

Goliath squared his shoulders and his wings rose behind him and then dropped down to cascade down his back like a cape."I have no interest in playing any of your games."

"You see, my friend," the other replied levelly, "that's where we have a difference of opinion. This isn't a forum for debate; you do not get a chance to voice a well-reasoned opinion."

"Say what you mean plainly!" Goliath exclaimed.

"Direct, I like that and spirited, you will make an excellent challenger in the Maze. An oh, by the way, the moment your entered the complex we've been monitoring your every move. And the entrance was locked behind you. So, if don't bother trying to escape the way you came in."

For his part Matt was rapidly adding up two and two and coming to the inevitable result of four; this was the same man who had called him with the anonymous tip, and felt a deep mixture of anger, shame for having not only fallen prey to a ploy, but having walked right into the trap.

Perhaps he had been too eager; too badly wanting to prove his theory in fact that he had allowed himself to grasp at a straw that offered itself. And not only, to add insult to injury had he led Goliath into the same trap. He ignored the man on the screen, dimly recording for future reference small details as he had been trained to do first as a cop and later on as a detective.

The man was middle-aged, had a receding hairline, wore tasteful if not expensive clothes, and he had seemingly not bothered to mask his voice when he had begun to address them upon their approach to the office.

This was a man who had adopted the mannerisms and dress of someone of wealth and status, but not to the point where he would stand out in a crowd, however, before he concluded his study Matt also noted one thing worth taking note of; on the lapel of his dress shirt was a tiny gold pin and the image depicted on it was a triangle tipped on its side with a single eye staring out of its center. Matt groaned and cautiously approached Goliath and reached up to tap him on the shoulder,

"I'm sorry, I got us both into this."

For his part Goliath nodded. "I know. Do not berate yourself over it. Perhaps that is all he," Matt pointed up toward the screen where the unidentified same was still regarding them with an unreadable expression, "wants,"

"Perhaps providing him with the chance to gloat and regale us with the power he wields. I am, well acquainted with the type."

Matt offered him a rueful but amused grin of his own.

"I can imagine. But to be honest, I'vee got this vibe that your personal nemesis isn't a part of this equation."

"He's acting alone?" "

"Yeah, but you do you have any idea what game he wants us to play?""

"Gentlemen," the other replied. "You will soon discover that for yourselves if you will take the elevator to the second floor. I will join you both momentarily."

The monitor in the officer blanked out and they saw little sense in remaining where they were. **** The ride up the elevator was uneventful. Exiting from the car and emerging onto a low and lengthy hallway however, there were met again, via a video monitor, the man who been behind this rather elaborate cat and mouse trap.

"Welcome, to the first level of the Maze. I had been expecting to see you both compete head to head as it were, man vs. gargoyle, but beggars can't be choosers."

He sighed and then waited for them to ask any questions and seemed almost a bit deflated when they failed to oblige him, so he continued. "You see each level of the building is one rung up on the Maze. The only way to escape the trap is to navigate the Maze, overcome the obstacles and get out the exit. Simple, right?"

"Sure," Matt replied with as much bravado and confidence as he could possibly muster. "When you put it that way."

"Exactly," the other replied.

"Now that you understand the game and the rules, you may begin at your discretion. I look forward to continuing our acquaintance on the far side."

And with that last remark the monitor mounted on the wall of the corridor winked out once more.

Soon after that the floor began to ripple and heave and soon the straight and narrow corridor was moving in a distinctly downward slant.

Goliath spread his arms to their full extension, as if seeking to grasp a handhold at the featureless and undecorated walls, roared but slid inexorably down.

In the confusion Matt, too, fared no better and he slid down yet another hidden chute.

"I'll find you!" he yelled even as he could no longer see his companion.

Goliath still did not know if he understood what was happening to him or why the unidentified human wished to have him run around in circles in a ridiculous maze.

He was angry, but, upon reflection, that anger was not directed at either Matt Bluestone as the male police officer both half-feared and half-suspected he had earned for his role in leading them both into this bizarre trap. A small portion of his anger was directed at himself but the greater part was directed at the trap itself and the man who had created it.

His fall ended in yet another featureless corridor, this one with no monitors, at least visible ones, that is. Even as had begun to get his bearings he heard a sound, a grinding, roaring, thumping sound and suddenly a wall panel slide aside and a mechanical contraption rattled through and shout metal cables in his direction.

They grasped him around his torso, his arms, and legs and began to squeeze.

Roaring in fury, despite the metal cables slowly squeezing the air from his lungs

Goliath reared back and by main force and will power ripped himself free of the restraining arms. His fury was up and building and it was white hot, and readied himself for the next surprise that the Maze could throw at him. "If this is the best you can do, I have little to fear!"

He began to trot down the corridor, searching for a door, or a window, or another of the hidden sliding wall panels searching for a way out; for there was always a way out of any trap. "Yes, this may be a game, but one that I cannot afford to lose! I shall find my way out and then, whoever you are, stranger, we will have a reckoning. Oh, yes, indeed, we will have one!"

Wandering around yet another part of the seemingly exhaustive maze Matt Bluestone was literally pounding his hands and head into the walls, recoiling away from the impact each time with louder and louder curses. Wandering around blindly was obviously not getting him anywhere fast, so he halted where he was and thought.

The fact that he had been separated from his companion did not unduly worry him, it was an obvious divide and conquer strategy, and it was also becoming more and more apparent to him that it was not him that their mysterious host wanted to test, it was the gargoyle. Aloud he asked, "I wonder if that fact should make me feel relived or insulted. Oh well, think, man, think!"

Matt suddenly realized that the grinding, pounding, banging noises that he could hear coming from another unseen part of the Maze could only be produced by something or someone large, and heavy making its way through the winding corridors and passageways. "Good hunting to you, Goliath!"

With that Matt figured that barring any unforeseen exits that he had not already discovered the only thing for it was to forge on. Suiting action to thought he strode forward, confidence renewed. **** After about two hours according to his watch a loud crash interrupted his meandering thoughts and Goliath burst through one of the sliding metal panels clutching something vaguely man-shaped and robotic that had noticeably seen better days.

He thrust it away from where it fetched up against the wall opposite of where he crouched, breathing heavily, but a determined expression on his face. "Greetings, Bluestone. I trust you are doing well."

"Well enough, Goliath."

"Good, for I for one have had enough of this place. I would like to have another chat with our host."

"I couldn't agree more," Matt replied.

A computerized voice came on at that moment and said: "The results of the test are inconclusive due to systemic damage of the operating parameters. The test subjects are free to go. Please exit to the left."

"Well, who would have thunk?" Matt murmured dryly. "Our host cut and run because his game was damaged."

"I would concur, but still, let us leave this place." "

Yeah, let's get the hell out of here," Matt agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also written and posted for fanfiic100, #79 when


	5. An Eye for an Eye

Title: An Eye for an Eye  
Fandom: Gargoyles, general series part 5 of 10)  
Author: karrenia  
Rating: General Audiences  
Words: 727  
Characters; OC, the illumnati, Beaumont, Trent)  
Note: This picks up shortly after where the previous story" Every Time I Try to Get Out"  
left off.  
Prompt: #76 who  
71/100

Disclaimer: Gargoyles: the Animated Series belongs to Disney and Buena Vista Television. It does not belong to me.

 

"An Eye for an Eye" by karrenia

If the man who stood over the debris and mangled wreckage of his robots had had any regrets at the outcome of his experiment he did not show it. Instead he pushed it aside with the toe of his Italian leather shoes and kicked at it for a few seconds before turning his back on it. The cost to either repair them or have the mess hauled away for scrap metal, while quite high, was not too crippling. He just did not relish having to file a report for his superiors at just how high that cost was going to be.

Signaling one of his assistants to see to the removal he walked away.

Once more ensconced in his office on the lower level of the deadly maze, he sat down in his over-stuffed chair and brought out an expensive Cuban cigar and a lighter and lit it. He had several minutes of a good smoke when his thoughts and contentment were broken by someone rather unsubtly clearing his throat and rudely knocking the cigar out of his hands.

"I know I should not have let an incompetent, lower-ranking member handle this assignment," the other man growled.

"Sir, I had no idea that you would grace us with your presence," the first replied, hoping that flattery and a certain level of oily boot-looking would get him out of the worst of whatever censure and or punishment his superior might be inclined to dole out to him.

"Not only did you allow quite sensitive documents to leave these premises under that intolerant Mace Malone, whom we had believed to be dead, you let a rank amateur police detective to get his hands on them as well."

In the back of his mind he was mentally going over a very ancient and cherished axiom those who belonged to order held dear and memorized from their very first moment of indoctrination: the worth of any secret is inversely proportional to the number of people from whom it must be kept.

Even though it would seem that in this modern age, corporations and governments were going in the completely opposite direction, going for more public transparency rather than the reverse.

Even as he stood in front of his agent in the field, he thought to himself: 'That is a dangerous route that I wish to avoid.'

"Beaumont," the other sighed, "What am I going to do with you?"

"I will do anything, Sir, you get back into your good graces," the man now identified as Beaumont said. "

Oh, I have no doubt of that," the other man replied, "None whatsoever, or someone as spineless yet as ambitious as you would not have risen so high in the ranks as you have."

"Trent!" I, "Beaumont exclaimed, some of his earlier self-confidence and anger rising to replace the subservience of only moments earlier. "

I allow you the lapse," Trent whispered, in a low gruff tone of voice.

"The thing of it is, both the police officer and the gargoyle now could recognize you by sight if not by name, but the test was not as inconclusive as we had believed."

"Yes, go on," Beaumont said eagerly.

"I do not think it wise to contact Bluestone directly, but a man of your connections could feasibly come up with a more subtle means."

"Are you planning to make these gargoyles are enemies or our allies?"

"I haven't given that much consideration," Trent mused as he reached up to finger-comb through his dirty blond hair and then lowered so that he could adjust the fit of his wire-rimmed glasses over the bridge of his nose.

"To be honest, I too believed that the rumor of actual gargoyles in Manhattan was nothing more than an urban myth, a hoax."

"They're real, I have seen that with my own eyes,"Beaumont stated, mostly to himself.

"Indeed, and their presence is problematic, although I cannot make reasonable plans after just one test, and the big one at that. We need to acquire more data before we proceed with our plans for the gargoyles."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go out and collect more information, but do so discreetly. I do not want anyone else probing into affairs; do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Crystal, Sir," Beaumont replied with a smirk.

"See that you do," Trent insisted.


	6. Closer to the Truth

"Closer to the Truth" by karrenia

 

Elisa tried not to be the type who actively worried about her partner's whereabouts or his extra-curricular activities on a regular basis. She had already given Matt fair warning about the concerns addressed by their police Chief.

Matt had promised her that he would keep all of their concerns in mind before proceeding any further with his investigation.

Several weeks had now passed and while she was no longer as concerned as she was about his border-line obsession with the investigation her concerns now lay in another direction entirely.

He had not returned her calls or left a message to say that he would be out of touch for a while. She also knew that he had shown up for his shift the past two evenings and now the Chief was busting her chops as to both the mind-set and whereabouts of Matt Bluestone. She felt that she owed it to both herself and Matt to find out what was going on with him.

To that end Elisa enlisted the aid of Broadway to help her. The big blue gargoyle had shown an interest in detective/police work in the past and she felt that that she could rely on him not to help out quietly without alarming the rest of the clan.

If there was one thing about Matt, he was the type to not only be as circumspect as possible, but to leave detailed notes on regarding his investigations at home office.

She also knew that he would not leave such evidence out in plain sight for just anyone to find, but she also knew where to look.

She used the extra set of keys to get into his apartment with Broadway coming in through the open eighth floor window. In the back of her mind Elisa briefly wished that she, too, had been born with a set of wings, but then after a moment of indulging in the whims, shoved the thought to a back corner of her mind.

"Elisa, is he here?"

"I tried to call ahead, and I also checked in with the precinct."

Elisa ruefully shook her head. "Nothing, and it's not like him to remain inccomunicado even when the Chief gives him an indefinite amount of time to pursue, shall we say, with Matt's extra-curricular activities."

"Like this Xanatos-angle?" Broadway asked, fascinated as ever with the world of law and order, mystery and detectives ever since he had caught onto a variety of cop shows on the television with Hudson.

Despite her growing concern over the whereabouts of her friend and partner, she still could not refrain from laughing at the half-serious, half-comical expression Broadway had on his face as he tilted the fedora he wore on his head and doffed it with, "Here's looking at you, kid."

"In all seriousness, I won't lie to you," Elisa replied. "I'm worried. Come on, let's go into his office. If anything might give us a lead, it will be in there." ***

 

Inside the office Elisa went over to the bookshelf and withdrew the volumes of magazines and withdrew a manila envelope with the paper clip binding and then removed a sheaf of typed papers.

She carried them over to Matt's desk and indicated that Broadway should join her in perusing them.

After a few moments of study Elisa let out o low whistle wondering just how much of the data about The Illumniati was in point of fact, hard facts and what percentage of it was pure conjecture. She suddenly wished very much to have Matt there to talk, speculate, agree and disagree. He was a good partner, and an even better friend.

In the privacy of her thoughts she promised herself, 'We'll find, wherever you are, we will find you. Just hold on a little longer, Matt.' and had just opened her mouth to answer Broadway's question when a crashing sound forestalled her response. It had come from the living room and they both run from the office into the adjoining room, but not before she stuffed the papers back into the envelope.

When she got to the living room she found Broadway hunched over an object that appeared both solid and square and striated, with a burlap sacking wrapped around it.

Broadway's earlier jovial mood had subsided and he just shook his head and sniffed as he handed it over to her.

She glanced at the hand-written message written on the square object that she determined to be a brick.

"To whom it may concern. Be it so noted. There will be no further interference on your part, or those of your friends and allies. Ignore the warning of this missive at your own peril. Do so, and you will never see you friend again.

"It just got serious," Elisa stated. "Don't worry, Elisa, or rather, don't worry so much," Broadway replied as he straightened up and came to stand next to her. "We'll find him. Just you wait and see."


	7. In Too Deep

Matt woke up tied up in a small room almost entirely bare of furnishings of any kind.

His hands were tied with tightly coils of hempen robe and his mouth has been gagged. The inside of his mouth taste like he had been chewing on a steady intake of cotton balls.

His memory of recent events was hazy at best but he did recall at least one thing, the make and model of the car that had driven near the walk-up to his apartment. It was a classic Italian sports-car, with the dealer plates still affixed to both its front and back, with blacked-out windows.

The man who had emerged from the passenger compartment wore a slightly-shabby but still understated elegant Italian suit with a pin-striped tie and the kind of wrap-around designer sunglasses that made his facial features difficult to discern in the glow of the street lamps and diffuse moonlight.

Still, Matt, distinctly recalled reacting with rapidly and quickly and drawing his side-arm long enough to get off a few warning shots before he was clubbed from behind with a blunt instrument and he lost consciousness.

"You're awake," the man said as he came over and removed the gag and then stood back to regard Matt from a loose-limbed cautious stance.

"I know that you more than likely won't believe me, but I am sorry about the overly rough treatment that you have thus far received from my fellow associates."

"Save it for someone who cares," Matt spat out.

"I understand why you might feel that way."

Matt grimaced. "Cut the crap. Who are you and what do you want?"

"Me? I just wish to discuss a proposition with you. I won't waste either your time or insult your intelligence with protestations that we are not what you believe us to be."

"If we're even on the same wavelength, why am I not dead already? Just because I've been poking my nose where it doesn't belong?

"Were you under the impression that our organization would operate in a similar fashion to say, organized crime, say, the Mob?"

"Yeah, I kind of did," Matt replied.

"Not so much, "the other replied.

"In our history I must admit what we've done may fall into that grey area between legal and illegal, right and wrong."

"Don't tell me you dragged me all the way here to say, give me a history lesson, or lecture me on ethics?"

Matt demanded. "Not really, but it does lead in into to what I wished to discuss with you."

"What it boils down to is you, Mr. Bluestone are in the rare position to make a decision that will drastically affect your future."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Matt exclaimed.

"Direct, to the point. Very well, I will just come out say it directly. You are being offered admittance into the Illuminati, although, well, shall we say that a person on police detective salaries does not quite have the investment capital of many of our members."

"Too damn bad," Matt muttered.

"Well?" the other man prompted

"Well, what?"

"Yes or no?"

"No," Matt replied.

For the first time since he had seen this man, and now that his composure was returning and he good think and put two and two together, he recalled that the last time he had seen this man was at the Silver Falcon along with Goliath a week ago. This was the same person. The man could have been best described as a cut-out carbon cop.

However, Matt's flat out refusal seemed to actually provoke a reaction out of him. The smaller man clenched his hands into fists and, turning his back on his captive, walked out of the room.

"Well, damn, that went about as well as you could have hoped? What do we do next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also written and posted for fanfic100, prompt #77 what


	8. Choices

Elisa moved forward and stood directly in the big gargoyle's line of sight, although in a remote part of her mind she was aware of how drastically out-sized she was in comparison to Goliath. However, nothing daunted, and as much as she cared and admired him all the others, she was determined to have her say.

"Don't blame, Broadway, Goliath."

"Where have you been lately, Broadway?" Goliath rumbled. "It has come to my attention that you have missed nightly patrols and while I understand that you have been helping Elisa with...

"Aye, lad," Hudson rumbled, approaching the pair and with an encouraging glance toward Elisa, added:

"Let the lass have her say."

"When did you last see Matt? Did he say or do anything that might indicate what his next move might be?"

"Matt? What does he have to do with anything?" Brooklyn asked his interest piqued as well.

"Has something happened to him?" Lexington added.

"I couldn't say exactly," Elisa admitted with a rueful shake of her head, "However, it's been almost an entire week and he hasn't called, or written, or contacted me in that entire time. I've asked Broadway to help me search and the only clue, well, warning is more like it, is a rock thrown his apartment window warning us to call of the search."

"Why did you not inform me of this situation in the first place?" Goliath exclaimed.

"Because he's my partner," Elisa exclaimed, "and because I knew that this was how you would react."

"We should help her, all of us," Broadway urged.

"Very well, the last place I spoke with Bluestone was a complex in the warehouse district,"Goliath replied. "A place bearing the markings of the Silver Falcon."

"Then let's go!" Brooklyn exclaimed.

 

"Ah, to be young, brave, and over-anxious, again," Hudson muttered mostly to himself, but ambled over and offered Goliath a confident and conspiritoral grin before he too launched himself into the air and spread out his wings to catch a rising thermal on the night air. Bringing up the rear, Goliath sighed.

"Indeed."


	9. With a Little Help from My Friends

Elisa kept a running tally in her head even as she fired off shots, training and instinct allowing expending and reloading as quickly as she possibly could

The goons wore the same type and make of body armor, face-shield that made it difficult to discern individual facial features or expressions. The only distinguishing feature that they sported at all was a stylized tipped triangle with an eye emblazoned in the center. Lexington had scrambled up onto the walls and then using his own momentum and a good amount of leverage launched himself into the air and soared over the heads of the gun-men.

In the distance they could just dimly make out the slumped, bound and battered figure of the man that they had come to rescue.

"There he is," she stated.

"I see him!" Lexington cried out, "I'll be there in a flash and then I'll get him untied in moments. Just you wait and see!"

So saying Lexington swooped and dived and landed next to the bound and gagged Matt Bluestone at nearly a split second before a bullet whizzed through the space where his head had been moments earlier.

"Be careful, Lex!"Broadway yelled, belated but heartfelt.

"Aren't I always?" Lex yelled back.

He began by removing the gag and then set to work on the knots in the rope, and then on the studs holding the piece of wood that held the man to the wall. Even as he worked Lexington could not help but feel a great deal of anger and disgust at whoever had been responsible for designing this cruel and unusual form of captivity.

Matt, just coming out of a daze opened his eyes with extreme difficulty and raised his head. At first all he saw was a big gray blur and then began to make out shapes, lines and then realized that despite everything that had happened, everything that he had done and left undone; the cavalry had come to his rescue after all.

"Lexington," he whispered.

"Yeah, it's me and the others are here, too."

"Tell them from me, thank you, thank you."

"Hey," Lexington replied blushing a bit with mingled excitement, pride and embarrassment, "Why don't you save your thanks when you can tell us all at once, huh?"

Lexington hurriedly set to work on the ropes and and knots.

"Sounds good to me," Matt replied.

At that moment Elisa and the Gargoyles had more or less bowled their way through their opponents and had reached Matt and Lexington, who had by now helped Matt down from the wall, and gingerly carried the injured and still groggy man in his arms.

"Is he okay?" Brooklyn asked.

Lexington replied: "He's weak, but okay, guys. I don't think there's any permanent damage."

"That's good," Elisa nearly choked on her words, "so good to hear."

"Didn't know you missed me," Matt grunted.

"OH, you." She sighed "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also written and posted for fanfic100, #24 family


	10. A Square Peg into a Round Hole

"I doubt that we have seen the end of this, " Matt sighed and then stuffed his bruised hands into the pockets of his coat both from feeling the evening chill settle in and for something to occupy his hands.

Elisa nodded and sighed and stole a quick glance over at the gargoyle clan who had helped break into the Illuminati strong-hold and rescuing Matt from where he had been strung up to the wall and left for dead.

Elisa still was not entirely certain how she felt now that it was all over, but she did know that it was more than likely that after the drubbing they had given the goons set against them that it would be awhile before they were threatened or attacked again.

"Matt, I don't really understand everything that happened here or what you endured," Elisa said.

 

"For what's it worth, I'm sorry. I feel that part of this is my fault."

"Don't even blame yourself, Elisa," Matt replied his face blushing with mingled anger and embarrassment. "At this moment I am experiencing the kind of mea culpa, mea maxima culpa like you would not believe. I honestly thought that I could handle whatever my investigation turned up with nonchalance and sanguinity and not blink an eye."

"Instead, I nearly got myself and all of you killed."

Matt sighed and forced himself to make eye contact with each of the gargoyles in turn no matter how difficult it might be just now.

"Bluestone, we are not dead yet," Goliath rumbled.

Matt, despite the throbs of his various aches and pains could not retain the glum expression on his face for long and mustered a grim smile up at Goliath.

"I do hope that you make it part of your future plans to not die any time soon.

"Not even in the cards, Matt." Elisa offered a determined grin of her own at her friend and partner. "And just so you know, we, all of us are in this together, for the long haul, right, guys?"

"Right!" all of the gargoyles shouted at more or less the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also written and posted for fanfic100, #43 square


End file.
